J.M.J.

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Chapter 6

Carson and Ned were beginning to lose patience, waiting for the Frasier police officer to finish making all his calls. He had already made several, and several had come in. Finally, while he was still on the phone, he called the two men over.

"I need you to confirm the description and license number of the car one more time," he requested, showing them again the report which Carson had already filled out.

It was a bit of a challenge for Carson to conceal his annoyance. "Yes, that's right."

The officer looked grim. "I needed to be absolutely sure. A State Trooper just found this car."

"Where?" Carson and Ned both asked at once.

"It's on Old Highway 7, which is about thirty miles from here," the officer explained. "It's not a very well-traveled road, and it looks like the car went off the road on a corner. It appears to have been disabled."
"What about the girls?" Carson asked.

"No one was around," the officer reported. "The State Police are looking into whether they went for help somewhere."

"What's the nearest town to there?" Ned asked.

"That would be Belford."

Ned turned to Carson. "If the girls walked somewhere to get help, they would have gone there."

"Right, although I don't know why they wouldn't have just called for help," Carson pointed out. "And I definitely don't see why they wouldn't have called once they had gotten to Belford."

"I don't know, but we might as well see if we can pick up their trail there than just stand around here," Ned insisted.

"That's true," Carson conceded. "The strange thing is that this takes them out of Paradise Valley."

"They must have found some other lead to follow up," Ned said, although he was uneasy about it. Something about this still didn't feel right.

"What about that message that Officer Thompson in Paradise Valley slipped to us?" Carson asked. "That's still going to be investigated, isn't it?"

"I'm sure, but I can check again with the State Police," the officer replied.

Since he was still on the phone, it only took him a few moments to confirm that the State Police would be investigating that matter.

"All right," Carson said resignedly. "Let's see if we can learn anything in Belford."

NDHBNDHBND

Tom was examining the hinges on the door of his and Nancy's new prison. They had been blindfolded while they were moved, but they could still tell a few things about where they were taken. They were brought out to a vehicle and driven a short distance at low speeds, which indicated that they hadn't left town. After that, they were taken into a building with a lot of machinery noise everywhere they went. The building must have either been huge or their captors were purposely trying to confuse them, because they were marched up and down stairs and hallways and turned more corners than they could keep track of. If they managed to get out of the room where they were locked up, they would have a hard time finding their way back outside. Ultimately, they were ushered through a door, which was then closed behind them. When they took off their blindfolds, they found that they were in a small, square room with its walls and floor made of concrete. The door was steel. There was a battery-powered lantern on the floor and there were two camping cots set up. Otherwise, the room was completely empty and completely dark.

"We must be in the plant," Tom said as he continued examining the door. "I haven't seen any other buildings around here that could be big enough to be the one we're in, and all the noise and concrete fit."

"Do you think we can get out that door?" Nancy asked.

Tom shook his head slowly. "Not without some tools and probably a cutting torch. They'll probably come and bring us food. Do you think we could jump them then?"

"We could try," Nancy replied doubtfully. "They'll probably be expecting something like that, though. Besides, I'll bet they'll have at least two or three guys come. I don't think we'd be able to fight them all."

"I guess not. But maybe you know judo or something."

Nancy grinned wryly. "If I do, I've forgotten."

Tom leaned his back against the door and sighed. "It was a long shot, anyhow. I guess that means we're stuck."

Nancy sat on one of the bunks and looked up toward the ceiling. There were no openings anywhere in the room, save a small vent up toward the ceiling. That was no means of escape, considering it was barely big enough for Nancy to fit her hand into it, even if she could reach it and get the cover off. Still, she didn't like the idea of giving up. There had to be some way out.

Yet as time slowly passed, no possibility of escape presented itself. Tom, evidently, was a talkative kid, and he told Nancy a great deal about his family—with the exception of his mother, which was a subject which Nancy noticed he avoided whenever possible—as well as about Swift Enterprises and the sorts of tech it developed. It surprised Nancy how interested and informed he seemed to be, although she found the topic of Swift Enterprises too technical to be interesting.

Eventually, the door swung outward. Tom leaped to his feet, apparently willing to attempt jumping the kidnappers in spite of the risks that it would entail. However, nobody came into the room. Instead, a man's voice instructed them to come out.

Nancy and Tom glanced at each other, but it didn't seem as if they had any choice but to come out. Nancy noted that no one was holding the door as they stepped out; it must have opened and closed electronically. Then she looked around the room she had just entered. It was an office, but a rather plain and industrial-looking office. The furniture was all made of metal rather than wood or plastic, giving it all a severe and unwelcoming appearance. Meyers was there, along with the four men who had helped transport Nancy and Tom. They were all standing well apart from one another. There was no chance to jump any of them.

"Thanks to Nancy here, we're going to have to change our timetable a bit," Meyers said without preamble. "We don't actually need Nancy for anything, but we're willing to let her go when all this is over, in return for cooperation."

"Cooperation with what?" Nancy asked.

"It's our young Mr. Swift whose cooperation we need," Meyers said, staring contemptuously at the teenager.

"Okay, so what do you want me to do?" Tom asked.

"Your father is still unconscious, but I think it would be nice if he had message from you as soon as he wakes up, don't you think? If you'll write it, we'll make sure he gets it."

"Any message that gets sent to the hospital is probably going to be read by the police," Nancy guessed. "Especially if they're looking for Tom."

"If they're looking for him?" Meyers repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that? You know perfectly well that they are."

Nancy looked away. She had been wondering in the back of her mind whether it would be better for her captors to know she could remember virtually nothing or not. It all depended on what they actually wanted from her.

Fortunately, Meyers let the question go unanswered. He turned his attention back to Tom. "Obviously, we don't want you to just write whatever you like, and Nancy is right that anything you send will be read. Because of that, we will have to send something that won't get the police's attention, but will get your dad's. We happen to know for a fact that your mom is aware of your disappearance and your dad's…poor health. We also know as well as you do that she doesn't care and would never send him a card. So you will send one and sign her name to it. I think he'll be able to guess who it's really from and that he had better not say anything to give it away."

"But what would be the point?" Tom asked.

"You'll tell your dad that this incident has caused you to think and you'd really like to talk to him about it. You'll include a phone number for your dad to call. The police will look at it, of course, but what could be more natural than that your mom would be shaken by all this and want to come to some kind of understanding with your dad."

Tom scoffed. "You don't know my mom."

"Neither do the police," Meyers replied. "They won't be the least suspicious, and if they do have any questions, we can arrange to make sure they get satisfactory answers."

"Are you going to bribe her to go along with you? If you think she's going to cooperate if you threaten me, you can think again."

"Let us worry about that," Meyers said. "If you're so sure our plan won't work, then you should be eager to go along with it."

Tom crossed his arms. "You tried to kill my dad once. If the point of all this is to get a second chance, then you'd have to be crazy to think that I'm going to help you, no matter how you threaten me."

Meyers took a step nearer. "Have you ever seen someone get murdered, Tom?"

A little of Tom's bravado failed him as he started to uncross his arms. "No."

Meyers signaled to one of the other men, who came forward and grabbed Nancy by the arm. Nancy struggled for a moment or two, but when the man took out a gun and aimed it at her head, she froze. She didn't dare look at Tom and make this any harder for him.

"Then it might be interesting to you to watch us kill Nancy," Meyers told him coolly. "I assure you that at such close range, the blood and gore won't disappoint you. You have ten seconds to decide if you want to see it for yourself."

"Okay, okay," Tom said, not waiting for a single one of those seconds. "Don't hurt her."

"There is a card on the desk and a pen next to it," Meyers directed him. "I want you to write exactly what I dictate to you."

Tom reluctantly walked to the desk and picked up the pen. Meanwhile, Nancy captor still held her and pressed the muzzle of the gun against her head. Clearly, they intended to keep that threat there until Tom had carried out his orders.

"Write Tom," Meyers began dictating. "This isn't easy for me to write, but after what has happened to you and to our son, I've realized that I can't risk letting the past go unresolved forever. I want to talk to you about it. Maybe we can both get some closure. I don't think you're so cruel that you wouldn't give me this chance. Call me when you can. Olivia." Then he gave a phone number for Tom to write at the bottom.

"Now back away again," Meyers directed him. When Tom obeyed, he approached the desk himself and looked over the card. "Good. It doesn't look like you tried to disguise your handwriting, either. If you had, I would have had to make you rewrite it. Put Tom back in the room. I'd like to talk to Nancy a little longer."

Tom backed into the room where he and Nancy had been imprisoned and the door swung closed of its own accord. It was only then that Nancy was finally released.

"I would like to know why you said, 'if they are searching for Tom' and not 'since they are searching for him,'" Meyers told her.

Nancy shrugged. "I just said it. It doesn't make any difference."
"Oh, I think it does," Meyers insisted. "Tell me, where do you live?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I already know, so it won't do any harm for you to tell me."

"If you already know, it seems a little pointless for me to tell you again," Nancy objected.

"Just tell me. We can make you tell us, but that would really be pointless. But know that I'll be able to tell if you say something different."

Nancy chewed her lip. There was only one reason that she could think of for why Meyers was asking her this. He must have guessed that she had amnesia. Well, what point was there in pretending otherwise? She didn't want to be forced to talk, and maybe it didn't make any difference. After all, perhaps she would otherwise know some information that she would have to keep from Meyers, and so him knowing that she had forgotten it might be for the best. Despite her efforts to make the best of it, she looked at the floor as she admitted quietly, "I don't know."

"Interesting." Meyers rubbed his chin. "Just how much do you not know?"

"I don't remember anything," Nancy confessed.

One of the other men scoffed. "You don't actually believe that, do you, Meyers?"

"I'm not sure." Meyers was still rubbing his chin. "I would think that if Nancy here was going to try to trick us, she'd come up with something a little more believable. If it does happen to be true, it does change things a bit. For instance, it would be best to keep our guest here as much in the dark as possible. I think we'd better find separate accommodations for her and Tom."

NDHBNDHBND

Bess and George had decided to try sleeping in shifts. They knew they needed to get some rest, but they didn't want to both be asleep in case someone approached the old farmhouse. As it turned out, they wouldn't have had to worry about it. Neither one of them could get any more sleep than a minute or two of dozing off. They stayed in the living room, and while they did finally concede to sit in the chairs, they couldn't find any blankets, and so sleeping on the couch was too cold and too uncomfortable. More than that, though, they kept imagining that they heard the doors or windows opening and they would freeze, ready to make a dash for the nearest exit on the opposite side of the house. But every time, it was a false alarm.

That is, it was until about three in the morning. George was on watch at the moment, and Bess had just managed to drift off to sleep for a minute. However, she was startled awake by the sound of a dog barking right outside the front door. Both girls jumped and then looked at one another.

"You don't suppose they sent hunting dogs after us, do you?" Bess whispered, wide-eyed.

"If they did…" George started to say, but she was cut off by shouting.

They couldn't tell what the words were, but there was a sudden scream of fear—a man's scream, no less—and the dog was drawn off from the door. George waited a few moments until the sounds of the dogs and the shouting had faded a bit, and then she cautiously stood up and went to a window to look out.

"What are you doing?" Bess asked. "Get away from there!"

"Somebody's in trouble," George insisted. "Maybe there's something we can do to help."

"I doubt it, unless it's just to get those dogs to start chasing us."

"I don't think that will help him much now," George reported.

The men and the dogs were still in the farmyard, and they had flashlights, so George could see a bit of what was going on. Half a dozen men and three dogs were gathered around another man, who had just been shoved onto his knees. George couldn't hear what was being said, but she could make out the general tone of the voices. They were harsh and accusatory, and George thought the man on his knees must be getting questioned about something. Suddenly, the man standing directly in front of him slapped him across the face. George shivered in fury, wishing there was something she could do.

Without George noticing her, Bess had slipped up to the window and was watching, too. She turned away when the man was slapped across the face. "What is going on in this awful place?"

"Whatever it is, I don't think it's the CIA behind it. It's looking more like it's something criminal than anything to do with spies."

"The worst part about it is that if they've got dogs searching for people who are trying to run away, then we don't stand a chance of getting away," Bess pointed out.

George nodded grimly. "I wonder why they didn't have them out earlier."

"We should have tried harder to get away while we had the chance," Bess replied. "What are we going to do now?"

George didn't answer as she watched the men outside grab their victim and begin to drag him away. Hopelessness was beginning to tell her that there was nothing they could do.